


I know when that hotline bling

by morepopthanpunk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Zayn, Break Up, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Heartbreak, Heartbroken Liam, LIAM TOPS, M/M, Sad Liam, Sexual Content, Smut, Smut and Angst, Songfic, Top Liam, hotline bling, idk just read it bro, its only natural, ok thats enough tags, zayn has a cool insta feed apparently, ziam, ziam smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morepopthanpunk/pseuds/morepopthanpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That can only mean one thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know when that hotline bling

Waiting is part of human nature.                                 

We’re told good things take time, and we’re more often than not willing to let time run its course. We wait for what’s important, what’s trivial, what we want, what we need. We wait for mail to arrive, staring placidly from behind glass. We wait for messages and emails; staring at glass, while impatience is all that runs through our veins. But you always know that something’s coming… You can’t say the same for a late night phone call.

Burning eyes, with tears leaking from the corners, drooping heads, shaking hands and quivering lips. Above all a desire to sleep colliding with how much Liam missed the familiarity of a vibrating phone in hand and a blinding screen with caller ID. Waiting for the phone to ring was a habit he couldn’t break, but falling asleep with his phone in his hand and waking up to find nothing missed was what broke his heart.

Zayn didn’t used to call because he missed him. Zayn probably didn’t call because he truly loved him, either. Zayn would call when he was desperate, when he was alone, when he needed a kind of love that no one else could give. Liam knew that his phone ringing at that time of night would only ever be Zayn, but now… there was nothing. His phone was devoid of incoming calls, his life was now devoid of those memories of risky hook-ups and hours so pleasurable all he remembered was hitting euphoria over and over again.

2 AM. Again. A time Liam used to love being awake for. Now his thumb mechanically swiped down the screen of his phone, no depth behind his eyes, the images barely registering.

It wasn’t like Zayn had dropped off the face of the Earth. He was still out and about and doing everything, but living his life with Liam, making sure every god damn person was drowning in the reputation he’d begun to build for himself. He started wearing less, started going out more; near nude photos on the beach, surrounded by girls Liam didn’t know surfacing everywhere Liam looked. He used to know everything about Zayn, including his most obscure of friends, and now? Liam was seeing a side of Zayn he’d never seen before, one he didn’t know existed. One that could only been seen now that Liam had left the city, and he and Zayn were thousands of miles apart- whatever their relationship was, a mere memory.

Liam saw the photos of Zayn flipping off the camera, being kissed by guys and girls on either side, almost worshipping him, holding glasses of champagne and who knows what else; wherever he was. The further he scrolled, the clearer it became that Zayn’s passport was being filled, always on the road, but even without Liam, he wasn’t alone. It was fascinating, it was kind of good to see Zayn living his life… but it was heartbreaking.

Liam felt bad. That was the best way to describe it- he felt like he did Zayn wrong and was, all that time, holding him back from seemingly what he really wanted and could only do now… He felt like in the present state Zayn was in- he and Liam would never have gotten long.  

Maybe this was the much needed break for any hope to be restored. Maybe there was no chance of getting it back for they, or at least Zayn, had moved on too quickly. Maybe their relationship was entirely a lie…  Liam didn’t fucking know. It was too hard to think about the wasted time and love he might as well have poured down a drain for the good it was doing Zayn now.

3:26am. A year ago.

Zayn called, a desire burning in the pit of his stomach. Liam answered and nodded, knowing that Zayn was driving over as they spoke. Many had asked why the two didn’t just live together, but that would get rid of the thrill that came with waiting, and the rush that came with fucking, and leaving just enough time for Zayn to get home before daybreak.

The car pulled up, the door was already unlocked. Feet padded down the stairs, the door was promptly shut. Whispered voices, hands attacking shirts, fabric flying off nearly immediately, buttons bouncing off the tiled floors.

Liam picked up Zayn, practiced arms holding him up by the base of his thighs, torsos touching, swollen lips on his neck bringing blood up to the surface and causing gasps and hurried swears to spill from Zayn. An arched spine, a head thrown back, hips grinding back and forth, impatience built with every passing second.

Clothes were off in the blink of an eye; the time it took to slam the door and turn off the lights, crisp sheets encircling the two of them in their own world, sitting opposite and breathing in each other’s sweat, lust and cologne. Liam used his hands a lot exactly where Zayn needed him, while Zayn’s roamed Liam’s body, taking his time, worshipping every inch of skin.

It didn’t take long before Zayn was fully hard, having imagined the things he and Liam would do on the drive over- and Liam’s hand gave him the much needed contact he required. His entire palm flattened against the base, and his fingers curled around to rest on the top. Each tug back and forth was dry and full of friction, the pre come slowly leaking from Zayn’s tip not enough to lubricate Liam’s actions fully. Zayn’s stomach muscles tensed, his hips rutting up into Liam’s hand and beads of sweat materialising on and gliding over every one of Zayn’s tattoos.  
Liam tightened his grip and paused causing a groan to come from the back of Zayn’s throat, teasing, almost punishing for the impatience Zayn was exhibiting. They both knew they’d be satisfied, but he was acting as if tonight was something else- as if it was their last night together. Ha. What a thought… certainly not one that crossed Liam’s mind at the time.

Everything had an air of desperation- it was palpable and it was getting closer and closer to sunrise. They needed to speed things along. Zayn shut his eyes and tried to establish a rhythm to meet Liam’s hand, unbeknownst to him that Liam was reaching backward and preparing his fingers for Zayn, eventually preparing him for his cock to fill him up. It was almost ritualistic. The lube was cold; there was never time to warm it up. Liam reached behind Zayn, distracting him with tongue grazing over his bottom lip, whilst his fingers began to gently tease his hole, the ring of muscle contracting and only relaxing enough to let one of Liam’s fingers pass. Zayn whimpered, sharp shallow breaths increasing with each second. As Liam fingered the muscles inside of Zayn and stilled his hand around Zayn’s cock- Zayn got more and more desperate, no less than two minutes later, begging for not two, but three of Liam’s fingers. Applying more lube to his long, thick fingers, he thrust three of his fingers up into Zayn and curled them, slowly, gently, eliciting groan after groan from Liam as his prostate was stimulated. Liam was so fucking good at this, Zayn almost hated it. He hated how vulnerable he became, hated how easily Liam could do this to him- reduce him to a whimpering mess, but he loved every minute of it. The pressure he felt from both sides, the softness of Liam’s lips…

Three fingers, in and out, over and over again. Liam curled his fingers, scissored them apart- teased Zayn until his cock was throbbing, twitching and swollen - Liam’s hand still resting on it, giving it the occasional squeeze, but not moving whatsoever.

“Fuck, fuck, ah, Li just… please, fuck now, me... I’m gonna...” Zayn’s sentences were less than coherent, his vision was blurring, but the boy with his fingers buried deep within him, was more than happy to oblige to his wishes.

Ignoring the obscene sound his lubed fingers made when withdrawn from Zayn, Liam used that hand to rub up and down his own throbbing, desperate cock, before aligning with Zayn’s hole and barely giving either of them time to adjust, establishing a quick rhythm. Neither of them wanted to waste time, but no matter how often they did this, they always meant more to each other than a quick fuck. Well… Liam thought so anyway.

Zayn was so stimulated he was on the verge of tears. He began to swear hurriedly, only for his words to be replaced with a chant of Liam’s name over and over again- begging. Liam smirked against Zayn’s neck and almost casually began sucking more hickeys against his skin, his hand maintaining his firm grip against Zayn’s cock, between their torsos- but finally beginning to rub up and down- movements slicker and faster now that Zayn had been leaking pre come for the past twenty minutes, thumb grazing over the slit at the tip every now and then… still teasing.

Zayn’s legs found their way around Liam’s waist, to get closer to him, if that was even possible. He pulled him closer, heels digging into his ass whilst one of Liam’s hands were on Zayn’s hips, every few thrusts, slightly changing the angle- yet never failing to hit his prostate each time. With every thrust came a new nearly strangled sound from Zayn and it was music to Liam’s ears.

Panting feverishly, their legs started shaking, thrusts became sloppier, lips quivering unable to form words, their eyes confirming what they were both thinking. With a final thrust, a final squeeze of Zayn’s cock and a near scream from Zayn, the two of them came together, vision blacking out and the sweet sounds of moans through the aftershocks reverberating in their ears….

Liam threw his head back, and having hit it against his headboard, pulled himself from the flashback he’d fallen into. The all too vivid memory he would likely never be able to recreate. His hand, which had found its way into his boxers and was resting against his swollen, twitching cock, was removed quickly and suddenly, not even bothered to finish what he’d started, and all he could do was sigh. Liam was here alone, bathing in what might as well have been a lie, and Zayn was probably getting it on with someone else. Doing the things only Liam had gotten him comfortable with, the things Liam had taught him…

Every night would have a phone call from Z. Now there was nothing. Zayn was someone else and unlike Liam, got the better of this- and was no longer by himself… and it was all because Liam left the god damn city. 

**Author's Note:**

> part of me cant stop imagining liam dancing like drake in the hotline bling music video


End file.
